A Cowboy's Luck

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  When she could breathe again, she looked at him and started giggling. “That was so much fun!”

  He grinned. “Glad you liked it.” That sparkle in her eyes was great to see. If she still thought she could dial it back after spending a carefree, sensual night together, she had another think coming. “Still want that drink and some snacks?”

  “Now more than ever. I’ve worked up an appetite.”

  “Then let’s do it. You’re welcome to go ahead and rummage in the kitchen while I take care of the condom. I think I have some chips in the cupboard.”

  “I can wait for you. I mean, it’s your kitchen. Your stuff.”

  “What’s mine is yours.” He gave her a quick kiss and eased away from her. “And yes, that was a sexual reference, but it can apply to the stuff in the apartment, too.”

  “Then I’ll go rummage.”

  “Good.” He went into the bathroom. The click of cupboard doors opening and the crackle of a chips bag were cozy sounds. He didn’t mind living alone, but having someone share the space with him was nice, too. Especially a woman with long black hair and big brown eyes.

  It was way too soon to predict they’d end up together, but every minute spent with her made it seem like a real possibility. He’d never had that sense of inevitability with anyone before. Being with her just worked.

  This time when he walked into the kitchen he couldn’t resist stroking her back and kissing her cheek, but he reined in the impulse to take it beyond that. If they ever moved in together, he’d have to control those urges or they’d never get anything done.

  Clothes would help, but he loved, purely loved, the concept of ditching them when they were alone. They’d live as if they were on a desert island where no modesty rules applied. Considering how easily she’d adapted tonight, she might be fine with that.

  She’d located the chips and a bag of mixed nuts. He sliced some cheese on a small plate and put the olives in a bowl.

  “I think that’s about all that’s available.” He took a beer out of the fridge and handed her the Butterscotch Mocha. “We could sit at the table, but that’s boring.”

  “You don’t mind if we eat chips in your bed?”

  “I do it all the time. I just brush out the crumbs later.”

  “Then we have a plan. I’ll take the chips, nuts and my drink if you’ll bring the rest.”

  He twisted the cap off his beer and put it in the trash. “After you.”

  She started back toward the bed. “There’s a certain elegance about living in such a small space.”

  “Dominated by a big mattress.”

  “But what more do you need? I noticed your TV is positioned so you can watch it from there.” She tossed the unopened bag of chips and the can of nuts to the far side of the bed before climbing in carefully with her drink.

  “That was the idea. I hardly ever turn it on. Did you want to see something?”

  “I’d rather look at you.”

  “I’d be a fool to argue with that statement. Thank you kindly.”

  “Thank you kindly. Bet you picked that up since you’ve been here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That, too.”

  “I like the way people talk in this part of the country. There’s a friendliness to it.” He handed her the bowl of olives. “If you could please hold these, I’ll climb in and join you.”

  “I will, but it’ll be a miracle if we don’t spill something.”

  “Now that’s where you’re wrong. I may have been a little sloppy last night when you came by the bar, but this job has improved my coordination considerably. I’ve become a ninja at handling food and drink under challenging circumstances.”

  “You probably have. It’s me I’m worried about. I’m not used to having a picnic in bed.”

  “Stick with me, kid.” He maneuvered onto the mattress while holding the beer and the plate of sliced cheese. He set the plate down. “You’ll get the hang of it. I’ll take the olives, now.” He put the bowl next to the cheese. “See? Everything’s under control.”

  “What about after I drink this Butterscotch Mocha that you warned me about?”

  “I’ll monitor that situation. Like I said, I’m a professional. I have experience with that sort of thing. You couldn’t be any safer than with me in this bed.”

  She gave him a smile. “I believe you on that score. But now I’m really curious to see how it will affect me on top of the first one.” She knocked it back.

  “Ah, a daredevil.”

  “Not really.” She handed him the empty glass and opened the chip bag. “Just the opposite. I’m usually very cautious.” She set the chips between them.

  “I’m getting that. Why do you think that is?”

  “My dad. I take after him. He’s very cautious. Thinks things through before he makes a move.”

  “What about your mom? Are you at all like her?”

  “Dad says I’m the spitting image of her. He has some old pictures and I can see it. I don’t remember much about her, though. I was only three when she died.”

  “Tough situation.”

  “For my dad, yes. For Pete, too. He was eight and old for his age. Gage was five and I think he was affected quite a bit, too. He won’t talk about it, so that tells me something.”

  “What does he do, again?”

  “This and that. Rodeo, dude ranches, always on the move. He hasn’t found his place.”

  “That can’t feel good.” He treasured every scrap of information because it helped him understand her.

  “I’m sure it doesn’t feel good.” She munched on some of the mixed nuts. “Of the four kids, Wes and I suffered the least. Somehow he got it into his head that he should look out for me. My theory is that it helped him cope.”

  “Probably.”

  “That reminds me. I keep forgetting to text him.”

  “About what?”

  “Nothing earth-shattering. We just keep in touch, usually on a daily basis. I’m falling behind.”

  “Want to do it now?”

  “No. Now’s not a good time. What I’d really like, if you’d be willing, but no obligation whatsoever…”

  “What?”

  “To put the food on the floor and make love to me.”

  He gazed into her eyes, which were slightly unfocused. “You’re toasted.”

  “I do believe I am, a little bit. You were right about the Butterscotch Mocha. It has a kick to it.”

  “Sorry you drank it?”

  “Not at all. I’m mellow and loose. I feel like having happy sex again.”

  “Then we’ll do that.” He began moving everything to the floor.

  “Only one other man has ever seen me toasted.”

  “Oh?”

  “My brother Wes, because I trust him completely.”

  His throat tightened. “You can trust me, too.” He gathered her close. “I promise you can trust me, Roxanne.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Something warm and heavy pinned Roxanne to the bed. After a moment of panic, she relaxed. The weight belonged to Michael, who’d put an arm and a leg over her as he slept.

  Pale light filtered into the room. Monday morning had arrived and she had a decision to make. Not a difficult one, as it turned out.

  She’d been wrong. Laughably wrong. Hours of naked pleasure with Michael had not prepared her for a period of abstinence. Exactly the opposite.

  He’d probably figured that would happen, which explained his amusement when she’d explained her plan. Last night hadn’t removed her doubts about their future, though. If anything, the heat they’d generated had convinced her that anything this intense couldn’t possibly last.

  She’d love to be wrong about that, too, but whether she was right or wrong, she’d moved way past the dating stage with Michael. There’d be no dialing it back as she’d naively projected when she’d hatched this scheme yesterday. She sighed.

  The soft sound must have roused him, because he stirred and open
ed his eyes. At first he looked confused, but as the confusion cleared, warmth took its place. “Good morning, beautiful.” His voice was husky with sleep and arousal.

  “Good morning, handsome.”

  “Now there’s a good start to the day.” Reaching over, he smoothed her hair away from her cheek. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Fine.” Marvelous, actually.

  “I guess you can handle a couple of Butterscotch Mochas, no problem.”

  “I think the orgasms helped.”

  “I would believe it.” He scooted closer. “Maybe you should have another one to be on the safe side.”

  The suggestion sounded vaguely scandalous. She might be self-employed but having sex on Monday morning went against her inborn work ethic. “Don’t you have anywhere you need to be?”

  “Not yet. How about you?”

  “I set my own hours.”

  “That’s what I thought.” The gleam in his eyes grew brighter. “I’m not going to kiss you and risk scratching your soft skin, but I have an idea for how we can accomplish this.”

  “Bet you do.”

  “Don’t go away.” Releasing her, he rolled to his right and reached under the bed.

  “I can’t leave without climbing over you.”

  “All part of my evil plan.” He rolled back with a condom in his hand. “The key to your freedom, princess. Tame the mighty dragon and he will move aside, giving you safe passage to your homeland.”

  She plucked the condom from his fingers. “Piece of cake.”

  “You dare mock the mighty dragon?”

  Reaching under the covers, she slipped her hand between his thighs. “I dare because I know where he keeps his family jewels.” She cupped his boys and squeezed gently.

  He sucked in a breath. “Nicely played. The mighty dragon is yours to command.”

  “Excellent. Lie back.”

  He flopped over, arms outstretched. “Be gentle.”

  “Be gentle? What kind of a wimpy dragon are you?”

  “The kind who craves the touch of a beautiful maiden so that he may transform into a handsome prince.”

  She grinned. “I think you’re the Irish kind of dragon who’s kissed the Blarney Stone once too often.” She ripped open the package and rolled on the condom.

  “In any case, I’m in great need of your kind ministrations, milady.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Despite all the teasing, her blood ran hot as she straddled his thighs and braced her hands on his lightly furred chest.

  His eyes glittered as his gaze locked with hers. “I’m counting on you, milady.”

  “Fortunately, your confidence is well-placed.” She eased down over the tip of his cock.

  He groaned. “My confidence would prefer to be placed a little deeper.”

  “You’ve got it.” She lowered her hips. Glorious.

  He sucked in a breath. “You’d think…after all that we’ve…you’d think I wouldn’t be so ready to…”

  “I know.” She eased upward and settled down again. Her pulse beat a quick tattoo as her core flexed and tightened. “Should be old hat.” She moved faster, welcoming the rush of sensation.

  He caged her hips in his big hands. “Slow down or I’ll come.”

  She shook her head and gulped for air. “Turn me loose.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His eyes darkened. He let go.

  She rode him hard and he came in seconds, his shout drowning out her cries. Panting, she collapsed against him.

  He wrapped her in his arms, cradling her against his heaving chest. “So good. So damn good.”

  She placed a kiss over his wildly beating heart before nestling her cheek there. She let out a gusty sigh. “The best.”

  * * *

  Until now, Michael had never cared whether he had real food on hand. He lived above a restaurant and the Eagles Nest Diner was a short drive away, so cooking for himself had seemed like a waste of time. But if he’d had eggs, bacon, and maybe some fruit available, he and Roxanne could have stayed in the apartment until mid-morning.

  Because he lacked those things, and because he believed that a gentleman shouldn’t send his lady off without feeding her breakfast, they had to shower, put on clothes and head for the diner.

  Dressing and leaving the apartment changed the mood. Couldn’t be helped and maybe it wasn’t a bad thing. Roxanne had made some claims about how she anticipated the relationship would go after they’d spent the night together. She likely wanted to talk about that.

  He doubted that she’d cling to her original theory, but it was always possible. Might as well have that discussion and find out where she stood on the matter.

  The diner was always cozy, but more so on a cold, cloudy morning. He chose a booth by the window because that made the warmth and delicious aromas doubly welcome compared to the dreary weather outside.

  “This is nice.” Roxanne slid in and laid her jacket on the seat before reaching for one of the menus in the metal holder. “Great idea.”

  “Thanks. First time?”

  “As a matter of fact. In case you can’t tell, I don’t get out much.”

  “I only come here for breakfast.”

  “A lot?”

  “Fairly often.” He glanced up at the waitress who usually handled this section in the morning. Her husband was the cook on this shift which worked out great for them. “Hey, Sheri.”

  “Hey, Michael.” She smiled at Roxanne. “I see you brought company this time.”

  “This is Roxanne Sawyer. She designed the new logo for the GG.”

  “That cute bear holding a beer mug? I love that crazy thing.”

  “Thank you.” Roxanne’s eyes brightened with pleasure. “It turned out well.”

  “You’re telling me. I’ve ordered shirts for me and Ira. Can’t wait ‘till they get here. The diner should come up with something like that.”

  “I’d be glad to give it a shot.”

  “I’ll talk to the owner. He tends to just go with the flow, one of those guys who thinks if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” She turned to Michael. “Not like you, always coming up with new ideas.”

  He shrugged. “Sticking with the tried and true might be the way to go for him. This place is always busy.”

  “It is, but I think we need a logo and t-shirts, anyway.” She gestured toward the menu. “Ready?”

  “I am.” He glanced at Roxanne.

  “Me, too.” She proceeded to order a robust breakfast of scrambled eggs, country-fried potatoes, a fruit-topped waffle, bacon, orange juice and coffee.

  He got a kick out of it. No dry toast and a glass of water for this lady. “I’ll have the same.”

  “Excellent. I’ll be right back with your juice and coffee.”

  After Sheri left, he looked over at Roxanne. “I’m so glad I brought you here. Even at my best, with all the ingredients, I couldn’t have produced a feast like that.”

  “Neither could I. This is a treat. Thank you.” She gazed at him. “I’ve been dying to ask you something. I hope it’s not too personal.”

  “I can’t imagine what would be too personal.”

  “All right, then. How do you keep all your lovely muscles in shape?”

  He started laughing. Of all the questions she could have asked, that was the last one he expected. “Magic.”

  Just then Sheri returned to serve them coffee. “Sounds like a jolly group over here.”

  “Roxanne’s a funny lady.”

  Sheri nodded. “I could tell that when I saw the bear.” She set down two glasses of orange juice. “Enjoy.”

  Roxanne waited until she was gone. “Come on. Tell me. I’ve been in your apartment and your office. There’s not a weight bench in sight, yet you’re built like a Greek god.”

  He blushed. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “I would, and I’ll wager I’m not the only woman who thinks so. What’s your secret?”

  “I have a few workout things in the closet. A door pull-up gi
zmo, an ab roller, resistance bands, some compact weights.”

  “Well, there you go. I knew there had to be an explanation. A body like yours takes work and it’s not like you spend your time flinging hay bales around.”

  “Just beer kegs.”

  “Okay, but that wouldn’t do the trick. I admire your muscles, but I admire your dedication even more. No wonder the logo t-shirt looks so good on you.”

  He grinned at her. “Miss it?” He’d had to settle for a regular Western shirt this morning.

  “I do! I hope you’ve ordered more for yourself because you should wear one every day you work. It’ll be very good for business.”

  “And get you hot?”

  “That, too.”

  “I hope you realize that I’ll think of you every time I put it on.”

  “I suppose that’s natural. I’ll think of you whenever I wear mine, too.”

  He waited. This was the perfect segue to a discussion about their relationship. He’d rather she brought up the subject.

  Instead she glanced out the window. “Not particularly inviting out there. Good day to stay indoors.”

  “True.” Was she really going to talk about the weather? “I’ve been wanting to ask you something, too. It’s about the art in your apartment.”

  Her gaze veered back to meet his. “You mean my dad’s? Isn’t it cool?”

  “I like it a lot. If he’d be interested, I’ll bet we could sell it at the Guzzling Grizzly.”

  “He might, at that. I can ask him.”

  “You have some other art on your walls, though. Looks like it might have been produced on a computer.”

  “Oh, that. Just me fooling around.”

  “You made those?”

  “I did, for the heck of it. Sort of an experiment. I like them, but I don’t know if anyone else—”

  “They’re beautiful. Makes me think of…well, never mind. You might have noticed I don’t have any art in my place.”

  “Understandable. You don’t have much room for it.”

  “I have one spot, though. The wall beside the bed could use something. If you ever have spare time and would be willing to create one of those free-form images for me, I’d love it.”

  “You’d want one of my pictures?”